


the progression of us

by defcontwo



Series: it takes a house, a village [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/pseuds/defcontwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slices of life and outtakes, "it takes a house, a village" verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you can't start a fire without a spark

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [一步、两步、三步 / the progression of us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422913) by [blurryyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryyou/pseuds/blurryyou)



Tim's only ever thought about this (when he took the time to think about this) in vague, hazy notions. He always thought that being so completely naked with someone else would feel awkward -- that he'd be too aware of himself, of his scars and his sharp edges, his bony elbows getting in the way. But now he's naked everywhere and Jason is naked everywhere, and it's as if his world has narrowed to a single point, this bedroom and Jason and the feel of Jason's warm skin beneath him. 

He thinks that he could stay like this all night, pressed together and exchanging lazy kisses when Jason breaks away, breathing harshly and ducking his head into the corner of Tim's neck. 

"Jason -- are you, are you humming _Dancing in the Dark_?" 

"It's stuck in my head, all right?" 

A thought strikes Tim. "Are you, uh, are you nervous?" 

"Yes, damnit. I don't know if you noticed last night but I don't exactly know what I'm doing here." 

Tim sits up, moving to straddle Jason. "I didn't. I didn't know that, you, uh -- "

"I'm not." Jason looks away, out the window. "It's complicated, I guess," he bites out finally, after several seconds of silence. There's something not being said here but the clenched jaw, the nervous fluttering of Jason's fingers dancing across Tim's hips tell him that this is neither the time or place. 

"I don't know what I'm doing here either, you know." 

Jason snorts. "Please, you probably did a fuckton of research." 

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."

"So, that's a yes. There were powerpoint slides, weren't there? I bet you ten bucks that you analyzed diagrams." 

Tim leans down, bites at Jason's collarbone. "Shut up. Why do I even put up with you?" And then: "You know, last night was good. We could keep doing that." 

"Yeah?" Jason says, quiet and close. 

Tim angles his hips, presses downwards. "Yeah." 

" _This gun's for hire, even if we're just dancin' in the dark_ ," Jason whisper-sings. He's got a deep voice that goes gravelly when he sings, probably from the years when he smoked -- and it's distracting, yeah, and maybe more hot than Tim is willing to take the time to think about. 

"What do I have to do to get you to shut up?" 

"Gag me, probably," Jason says, and Tim can feel Jason's smile against his lips. He huffs a laugh, reaching down to snake a hand between them. 

"Now there's an idea with merit."


	2. slow down, breathe deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are three things in Tim's life that absolutely shouldn't happen at the same time.

There are three things that absolutely should not happen at the same time in Tim Drake's life and those are the following:

01\. The General's completely and utterly unwanted return to Gotham.   
02\. Bruce unloading a WE R&D project onto him to work out with Lucius Fox.   
03\. Midterms

 

He spends the greater part of the week putting fires out all across the city, chasing down traps left behind just for him and generally ( _har har_ ) tearing his hair out over that jumped-up asshole Armstrong until he finally manages to arrest him, sending him off to Blackgate for what Tim hopes and prays will be the last fucking time.

The R&D project -- well, that one's Jason's fault completely. Tim is minding his own business, scratching out engineering blueprints in chalk on his wall to share with Lucius later when Jason comes in, and slouches on their bed and stares at him until Tim can't take it any longer.

"What?"

"I don't see you in glasses that often."

"That's because you don't see me much when I'm working."

Jason makes a humming noise. "I'm seein' you now."

"Jason -- are you, seriously?"

Jason spreads his hands out wide. "What? I mean. It's a good look for you, is all I'm sayin'. Never much went in for the cliche but now I kinda want know what would happen if Mister Drake called me into his office."

"Jason, I'm trying to work."

"Because if I've been naughty," Jason says, voice dropping a register or two. " -- and I mean, c'mon. Well, I'm thinkin' Mister Drake would have to spread me across his desk and teach me a lesson or two, wouldn't you say?"

"Have you been watching porn or something?" Tim says, throwing his hands up in the air. Jason is just looking at him with that smirk on his face, tapping his fingers idly on the bedspread, and the battle is so, so lost.

"Yeah, you know, maybe you're right," Tim says, unbuttoning the top button on his oxford and making for the bed, "maybe I do need to teach you a lesson."

So, yeah. R&D project last-minute scrambling -- totally Jason's fault. Maybe it was a little bit Tim's fault because honestly, trying to do work in the bedroom, what was he thinking.

But he mostly blames Jason.

Which brings him to midterms and two and a half days without sleep. He's got just one exam left and about a million facts to memorize, so Tim shuffles to the coffee maker to get some coffee brewing, digs out his glasses and his comfiest sweatpants, and decides to settle in for the night on the couch, his notes spread around him. The exam is on the history of photography and it's in ten hours and he hasn't even studied a little.

"Ugh," Tim says, glaring at his notes, willing them to leap into his brain. He takes a sip of coffee and picks up the printed-out powerpoint from the third lecture. "All right, tally-ho, Drake."

+

All of those events coincided to bring Tim to right about here:

"Hellooooo, Earth to Timothy."

Tim shifts, blinking his eyes blearily before promptly shutting them. He doesn't know where he is although he's pretty sure where he is a lot harder and less comfortable than the couch.

The voice is familiar as Tim tries to shuffle through his mind to figure out where he knows it from, flipping together what he associates with that voice. "Dick?"

"Fuckin' excuse me?"

Tim waves his hand in the direction of the voice. "Nah, not -- not that like that. Like -- touching penises."

The voice snorts. Jason, right. "Yeah, that's me. I oughta leave you here as a lesson. How the fuck have you survived this long? Really, I want to know."

Tim laughs, punch-drunk. "Your guess is as good as mine. Am I in the bathtub?"

"Yup."

"But I'm not wet."

"Yeah, you also still have your clothes on. Glasses too."

Tim shakes his head. "I think I thought it would wake me up."

"Genius plan," Jason says. "All right, up and at 'em."

Jason lifts him out of the tub, grunting as he does so. "Fuck, you're heavier than you look."

"Muscle mass," Tim says, eyes slipping shut again.

"I think I figured out the real reason that you hopped in that tub. When was the last time you showered?"

"Y'r rude."

"I want you to appreciate how magnanimous it is that I'm letting you sleep in bed with me when you smell like this," Jason says, nudging the door to their room open and depositing Tim on the bed with a thump.

"When do you want me to set the alarm for?"

"Six," Tim mumbles into his pillow.

"I thought your exam was at ten?"

"Gotta review."

If Tim could see Jason shake his head and set the alarm for 8:45, he'd probably have something to say about it. But as it is, he's already snoring. Jason reaches over and plucks his glasses off, placing them on the bedside table.

"Sleep well, Timbo."


	3. but they haven't seen the best of us yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babs and Jason, an interlude.

The library bathroom is cramped and dank, and with the mirror set much too low, Jason has to stoop to see himself properly. The razor scratches across his skin, making swift motions through the shaving cream as Jason tries very hard not to think about the fact that he’s going to have to find a new place to sleep tonight — his latest safe house was compromised again, fuck you very much, Bruce — and the fact that shaving in this tiny bathroom before work has to be a new low. 

There’s a beeping sound from the comm-link and he digs it out of his jacket pocket, sticking it in his ear and tapping it on. “Yeah?”

"You missed a spot, little bird." 

"What, did you watch me pissing too?" 

Babs laughs, low and amused, and Jason warms, despite the cold, frigid air in the bathroom. “Don’t worry, I looked away.”

"Yeah, very reassuring," Jason growls, running his razor under the water before wrapping it up in a paper towel and stuffing it back into his backpack. "What do you want?"

"Hush now, little bird, is that the kind of ingratitude that you show the friendly ex-librarian who gave you such a glowing recommendation?" 

Jason shakes his head, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “What can I do for you today, oh mighty and wise Oracle?” 

"Can we meet for coffee at the diner across from the library? Let me know whenever you get relief to grab lunch and I’ll meet you there." 

"Uh, yeah. Around one?" 

"See you then, little bird."

"You gonna tell me what this is about?" 

"I don’t know yet," Babs says before there’s a click and the line goes dead. Jason tugs out the comm-link, placing it back inside his jacket pocket, and unlocking the door to the bathroom. There’s a few people milling the stacks already; a man who looks like an elderly college professor gives Jason a curious look and Jason nods and tries to give a smile that he’s sure looks more like a grimace. 

Great. Now he’s the nutso librarian who talks to himself in the bathroom. Way to go, Todd. 

"Morning, Jason," a voice calls out. It’s his boss, Emily, as she makes her way over to him to hand him a list of new books that need to be processed. "Can you get these done asap?"

"Yeah, sure," Jason says, tugging an absent hand through his hair as he flicks through the list. "No problem." 

"Hey, Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"You missed a spot," Emily says, pointing with her index finger at a space just under her jaw. 

Jason sighs, thumbing at the scratchy hairs just under his jawline with calloused fingers. 

"Yeah, so I’ve been told."

\+ 

"Two coffees and a chili cheeseburger," Babs says to the waitress as Jason sits down across from her at the table. 

"You’re not hungry?"

"I ate already," she says. She waits a beat and then another for the waiter to walk out of earshot before turning to face him head on. "So, I got the most curious phone call from Tim yesterday." 

Fuck. Jason reaches out and picks up a sugar packet from the container, tearing at it to give himself something to do with his hands. He shrugs, idly, feigning disinterest. Babs can see right through him, he’s sure, but he’s not in the mood to throw the effort into it, to put on a show. If it were Dickie, sure, yeah, but this has been itching at him for days now and maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of him that’s aching to talk to someone about it. 

"Curious, how?"

"He wanted to know where he could find you. You want to tell me why that is?"

"We had a fight," Jason says tightly. "Couple of weeks ago now, I guess." 

"Violent?"

Jason snorts. “Nope. No punches were thrown, no knives were drawn. No thin pretty boy skin was scathed, I promise. Scout’s honor.” 

"You were never a Scout," Babs tosses out. "I don’t think your uniform was exactly up to their regulations." 

Jason throws his head back, laughing before he can stop himself. “No, fuck. No, definitely not.” 

Barbara’s lip twitches like she wants to laugh too but not before she gets out of him what she came here for. “Do you mind telling me what the fight was about?”

"I — " Jason starts before clearing his throat, taking a swig of the coffee that the waitress just set down and wincing as the hot liquid scalds his throat. "I crashed at his place. Once or twice. Well. A little more than that. Guess he got sick of the imposition.” 

"…Which is why he’s now tracking you down?" 

"Fuck if I know, Babs." Jason shifts a little, uncomfortable in the diner chair that’s just a little bit too small for his larger frame. "We were getting along, a bit. For a while there. Or — I don’t know. We weren’t fighting, anyways." 

"And did you like that?" Babs asks, quiet but firm. She gives him a look like there’s no way in hell she’ll let him get away with dodging the question. "Getting along with Tim?"

Jason slumps a little, banging his boot-heel against one of the table legs. “Yeah? I guess. Yeah. He’s — he’s not what I expected.” 

Babs stares at him for a few minutes and Jason looks away, ducking her gaze, but he doesn’t have to see her face to know the stages its going through as her brain clicks through it. “Oh, Jason. Really?” 

"Shut up," he grumbles. 

"You know, I had your type _all_ wrong,” Babs says. 

"Look, it doesn’t matter, all right? Just drop it, okay?"

"Okay," Babs says, sipping her coffee quietly, a Cheshire cat grin playing across her face. "Although if I wasn’t dropping it, which I am, I’d point out that it’s pretty clear that Tim is hardly dropping the matter.”

Jason pointedly ignores her as he thanks the waitress with a quick smile as she sets down his food, already reaching for the ketchup to dump it on top of his fries. Jason dips a fry into the ketchup and then points at Babs with it. 

"And if I were the type to not drop things, I’d ask you how long exactly it’s been since you and Dickie Bird started screwin’ around again but I’m not because that’s just the kind of good friend that I am. But strictly speaking, you know — if I wanted to, I could."

Babs flushes prettily, her cheeks staining red, as she glares at him viciously over the top of her glasses. “Shut up and eat your burger, Jason.”

Jason grins at her cheekily as he stuffs a handful of fries in his mouth. ”Yes, ma’am.”


End file.
